I Confess…I’m the Easter Bunny

During a recent trip to Cost Plus World Market (I could live in there) I spy their bounty of Easter crap. (LIGHT BULB) I’ll grab the Easter basket goodies now (end of February) and be way ahead of the game. So smart, right?! You’d think.

I arrive back at home and, while unloading the case of wine bags, Eight Going on Eighteen asks, “Mom, what’s that rainbow thingy sticking out of the bag in your car…is that for me?”DAMMIT CHILD!

Now, why is it, that this kid cannot see the shoes that need put away or see the damp towel left on the bathroom floor that needs picked up or see that the dishwasher needs emptied or the trash needs taken out. But, she can see a small rainbow thingy peeping out of the “secret” bag buried in the back of my car?! Seriously!

Caught off guard, I stammered and stumbled over my words and made something up that sounded completely believable. Yeah, she didn’t buy it! So, now I have two choices, ONE-we give it to her for Easter, from her Dad and me (which means I now have to find a little something to give Sixteen Going on Thirty, from us), or TWO-I take it back (PIA) or give it to some other kid, because if this stupid rainbow kite thingy shows up in her Easter basket, she’s gonna know I’m the Easter bunny. Oh, the pressure to keep this a secret. It’s exhausting!

Same thing at Christmas…we squeaked through the holiday with her still believing in Santa. Finding places to hide presents and special Santa gift wrap was a cross between Where’s Waldo and the Shell Game. Sadly, if I hide stuff in the attic throughout the year, by the time Christmas rolls around I’ve forgotten about it and end up finding it seven years later…no longer fits or would be considered a fashion don’t. I can’t have gifts from Santa shipped to the house because Nosy Rosie investigates every parcel like a professional sleuth. Damn you Nancy Drew! Engaging covert ops is exhausting me.

You’d think, since I’ve been through this with Sixteen Going on Thirty already, that this would be easier. Sadly, it’s not! I can’t count how many times the pressure almost got the best of me and I nearly blurted out, “I confess…I’m Santa, the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Great Pumpkin and your Fairy God Mother. It’s all a lie! There, your illusions have been officially shattered.” But, alas, I always refrain. I suppose I’d rather her figure it out for herself. Seems less painful to realize all on your own—like bursting your own bubble instead of your mother doing it (#therapyfund).

Sometimes the hoops you’ve got to jump through, to keep the charade going (when they’re too smart for their own good), is just too big a burden to bare. I’m fairly certain she knows the truth, but she still wants to believe. I’m gonna let her–if it doesn’t kill me first.

How old were you when you found out the truth? Who told you?
Did you tell your kids or did they figure it out on their own?

Stay sane, my friends.

P.S. Use caution when searching online for images of women in bunny ears…OMG! Apparently, Easter has gone sexy and no one told me.

comments

We’re going through this exact thing with our 9 year old. I don’t think she really believes in any of it, but we keep up the charade because we don’t want to be the ones to crack first in case she does still really believe. We’re in some sort of Imaginary Magical Benefactor standoff.